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dreamtogether2000 · 21 days ago

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listen i started this because i had an idea that if Feanor had daughters instead of son that Fingon would be so annoyed hearingothers talking about when Feanor is gonna marry his beautiful daughters off alreadyand he goes home to ask his parents what happens when someone gets married and why its called Marrying Off for girlsand they basically tell him that when a woman marries a man she moves into her husbands houseFingon is horrified Like You Mean Forever???? They Never Go Back Home????and his mom laughs like Well Not Forever I Mean I Still Visit My Parents Housebut this doesnt comfort Fingon cause his mom like never visits them for long or too often cause she has responsibilites here with their dadAnd then Fingon stands up all determind like Well Then Ill Marry Russo So She Stays With Our Family!!! and nolo does a spit takeand anaire laughs so loud and bright as nolo has to stumble around and try and tell Fingon that he cant marry Russo cause hes too youngso Fingon is like FINE Ill Just Fight Everyone Who Tries To Take Her From Her Home Until I Can Marry HerRusso when she hears is embarrassed but charmed cause her little cousin is so cutecue to years later when she hears him singing the lullaby she used to sing to him as he comes to save her from Thangorodrimjust as brilliant and valiant as the nickname she used to tease him with says and shes like Oh No Hes HotI also fully believe this is how Mae fell for Fingon in Canon too like before it could have been puppy love or a crushbut Fingon coming to save him is when he fell in LOVE and knew that there is no one else for him

Not to be like "but if Feanor had seven daughters instead of seven sons things would have been better" but also if Feanor had seven daughters instead of seven sons things would have not been like fixed, but better then they were.

Like his whole problem is that he feels that Finwe betrayed his mother and that he will be forgotten compared to his new children with Indis. So what if we give him a way to see that he is the one that carries on his mother’s name and line, he is the one that can show his mother’s talent and beauty, he is the living memory of her, but like in a good way instead of a spiteful way like he does in canon?

(The Daughters of Feanor are now named!! Thanks to @arofili!! )

He and Nerdanel think their first born is gonna be a son, and they have all these plans for names and baby clothes, and Nerdanel says the child’s fea feels just like Feanor’s, but brighter? Warmer? So they’re convinced it’s gonna be a son.

Instead, their child is born and she looks just like the woman in the portraits Feanor used to sit and stare at for hours as a child. She has his mother’s button nose, her soft petal lips, her slightly longer pointed ears, and the same sprinkle of freckles that look like constellations across her nose. Feanor cries, and all his plans for a snub at his half-siblings by calling his child “Third Finwe” and standing triumph at the scandal it will inevitably cause fly out the window.

He calls her Tatyamíriel, his "Second Jewel",and Nerdanel calls her Maitimë or “Well Formed One” and it’s fitting because she’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

As she ages, his little Tatyamíriel looks more and more like her grandmother, in all but her hair, which is her mother’s brilliant wave of fire. Finwe, of course, spoils his first grandchild, but he looks so guilty at her sometimes, because once she becomes of age, everything about her reminds him of his late first wife. The way she laughs, like a tinkling of bells, the way she stands tall and proud at court, the way her words and actions draw all the attention in a room (not just because she is by far the tallest woman in the room), and how with a wave of her hand or a small smile she can ease any and all tension both in court and at family gatherings.

Tatyamíriel has the bearing of a Queen. She is beloved by all, especially her little half cousins. The whole family laughed and cooed when little baby Findekano proclaimed during one family dinner, that any that wishes for the hand his favourite cousin will have to duel him for the right, because his cousin has the best hugs and the best smiles. So she deserves someone who will always fight to be there for them! Little Findekano was often teased with the epithet, “The Valiant” after that declaration, much to his chagrin and his dearest cousin’s embarrassment. Everyone is eager for the day Tatyamíriel decides she wants to court, because there will be a trail of broken hearts (and bones) behind her.

Feanor couldn’t be prouder, for this daughter of his will be the queen his own mother didn’t have the chance to be. Alive and beloved as she should have been.

They try for another child, and surprise! It is another daughter. When she is born she wails so loudly and so demandingly that Feanor laughs, gently lifting her into his arms and says, “We hear your demands my Strong Voiced Jewel! My Kanamíriel! Welcome to life, little one, and may you keep singing.” Nerdanel smiles tiredly at the duo, patting Tatyamíriel on the hand as the girl uses the other to cover her ear with a frown. “A voice strong enough to cut through even the softest of metals, if she tries hard enough. Our little Makalaure she will become!”

As Kanamíriel grows, he can see that she has her grandmother’s clever fingers. Plucking strings of her lyre like Miriel would pluck strings of cloth. He can hear the whisper of older Elves as they comment on how her voice is just as sweet as Miriel’s when she would sing and weave on her looms, and Feanor feels proud.

For how can he feel so abandoned by his parents when his mother’s talents and looks are echoed so loudly in her grandchildren?

Their third child is another daughter, and this time they expected it despite all the fortune tellers saying otherwise. This daughter was beautiful as she was loud. She was a wild thing, often scraping her knees climbing trees and trailed mud on the floors after playing in the rain and the whole house was at their wits end. She was truly her father’s Strongest Jewel, his Turcamíriel. Her mother name of Tyelkormë was right on the nose as well, what with all the times her eldest and longest suffering sister, Tatyamíriel, had to pull her away from scrapping with her half-cousins.

“Ladies do not start fights!” Was a phrase repeated often enough in their House.

It was always followed with a fierce, “But they do finish them!” This was most likely followed with her half-cousins screaming in fear or pain as she pulled herself from her sister’s grasp and lept, fists flying.

But for all her wildness, she had the starlight silver hair that Miriel was known for. And where her grandmother had the favour of Vaire, she held the favour of Orome so much so that he even gifted her a puppy from his own pack of hunting hounds.

Their fourth daughter caused Feanor the most worry. She had tufts of the darkest red hair he had ever seen, and her eyes were such a dark grey that they almost looked black, so much so that he named her his Morimíriel, his small onyx. None of this was much to worry about. Neither was the healthy flush of red in her cheeks, that became her cause for her mother name of Carnistir. What caused him to worry was how often those little cheeks would flush with emotion. She was more emotional than her siblings, something they didn’t think was possible with their melodramatic Kanamíriel, or ther wild Turcamíriel. Feanor often had older Elves come up to him and warn over how deeply she feels, for Miriel was the exact same and she faded under the weight of her heightened emotions.

Luckily, while his little onyx would flush with joy, anger, jealousy, pleasure, and many other powerful emotions, her little cheeks never became ruddy with tears of despair for too long. She seemed too full of life to want to fade like his own mother, but he always kept a close eye on her just in case.

Their fifth daughter, much to everyone’s surprise, didn’t share much with Miriel, but instead looked like a little female copy of her father. She looked so much like Feanor when he was an infant, that Finwe had often called her Curufinwe instead of her actual name, Curumíriel. In fact so many had made the same mistake, that she often went by her mother name of Atarinkë.

"At least this way," Kanamíriel would laugh, "They can't mix up your names if they really do want to call you 'Little Father.'" Little Curumíriel would just scowl and try and kick her sister's shins, just like Feanor would try and kick Nolofinwe after a court session.

As she grew she acted just like Feanor, wanted to dress just like him, wanted to watch him in the forge, often was found mimicking her father’s angry scowl right behind him. This tended to help defuse some tense family gatherings as one just had to look down and see a mini-Feanor huffing and puffing right behind her dad, and it was just too cute not to coo at.

Feanor often found himself smiling as he thought that all his children were just like his mother, but just like him as well. And years later, when Curumíriel married a gold-smith, they had a little son that looked just like his mother, and just like his grandfather. Feanor would laugh loudly at those who were brazen enough to comment that, thankfully, at least this child didn’t copy Feanor’s personality as he did with his looks. He wondered if his mother would laugh at those who would say the same things of her own similarities with her granddaughters.

Just as Feanor had a child that was a little mimic of him, Nerdanel had her own little mimics with their sixth and seventh daughters. The twins Pityamíriel and Telumíriel had her mess of red curls, her warm skin tone and bright dusty freckles speckled from the tips of their ears all the way down to the tops of their toes. They had her quick smile, her strong hands, and short stature.

But they still carried their grandmother’s genes, just like all of their sisters.

“Miriel was a twin, did I ever tell you that?” Finwe murmured as he looked down at his youngest granddaughters.

“No, you never did.” Feanor replied, a little bitterly.

“Her twin sister died young, barely past the age of maturity, so it was a sore memory to recall. Miriel and Telpina, her sister, were very close. While they were not identical as some twins are, they were like two sides of a coin. She was loud and brash where your mother was quiet and steady, and while your mother was eye-catching, it was Telpina that could keep the eyes on her with her personality and voice. They were often giggling and singing with each other as they weaved. It was Telpina that encouraged your mother to accept my courtship of her, teasing her with blushing whispers and knowing looks. Once Miriel accepted, Telpina cornered me and threatened my manhood with a blade if I ever broke her heart.” Finwe grew quiet.

“One day they went into the woods to scavenge for plants they could use to make dye. I was hunting nearby with Olwe and Elwe, for it was a chance meeting that our two clans were close enough to mingle. We heard a scream and flew to investigate. And there was Miriel, you mother, weeping as she fought off Shadows of the Dark Hunter with nothing but her small dagger. Telpina was attacked, for it was her that screamed, and killed right before her twin. I believed that was the start of your mother’s overwhelming grief.” He paused, and his eyes became wet with tears. “It is one thing to lose a friend or a sibling. But I’m told losing a twin is something different. It’s like losing a part of yourself.”

Finwe reached over and grasped his first born son’s hand. It was shaking a little. “You look so much like Telpina, I think that is what finally broke her. It’s no fault of yours, beloved son of mine, but your colouring, your temper, your passion, the way you shine brighter than anyone in a room… You are almost an exact copy of the twin she had so painfully lost, and don't think she was strong enough to withstand that loss, for your mother felt things much more deeply than others did.”

It was a quiet evening, when Finwe and Feanor had that heart to heart, and it repaired something between them. Feanor finally felt that he understood his mother, that he understood why she had left him behind all those years ago. His own daughters were like little puzzle pieces that helped him create a missing image of a woman he never knew but loved so deeply. Watching them grow and having them in his life healed some parts of his bruised heart and led him to feel less attacked by those around him.

Finwe, in turn, would also be reminded of his dead first wife much more often as he watched his granddaughters live their lives in Tirion, women that look and act just like the wife he lost in different ways. It would be so much harder to not mention these similarities and reminisce with his first son.

When Melkor was released, his whispers didn’t affect Feanor nearly as much as it would have once. When Feanor created his Silmarils, it wasn’t as a desperate attempt to showcase his worth to his father, but instead as a way to honour his mother, the brightest and most brilliant jewel he knew. One gem for each stage of Miriel’s life, a Sister, a Wife, and a Mother. There would be no sword waving, no banishment and exile, but leaving willingly to further distinguish the Houses of Miriel and Indis, so the House of Feanor will no longer live in Finwe’s shadow but Miriel’s brilliant shine. When Melkor steals the Silmarils, and kills Finwe who was visiting his son’s home, there was no snub with a passing the crown over the eldest born to the second-son. There is no bitter anger over being replaced that forces Feanor to burn the Ships, forcing his half-brother and his kin to pass through the grinding ice.

There are still some things that are the same. With the loss of his Silmarils, Feanor falls into a fey anger, as if the Enemy had stolen his mother’s light from him again. There is still an Oath to bind the Daughters of Feanor to help him reclaim the gems, however not a damning Oath. There is still the first Kinslaying when Olwe refuses to give him his ships. There is still the Doom of Feanor. Fingolfin and his kin and his brother’s children still follow Feanor as their leader. Nerdanel still chooses to stay behind, so she can greet her daughters and husband when they inevitably return to the Undying Lands. Noldolante is still sung from the wailing lips of a blood coated Kanamíriel.

There is still a quick battle after Feanor and his host land on Middle-Earth, and Feanor is still quick to anger and fuelled by rage and pride he moves to attack Melkor before his half-brother and his host sail to the shores. Feanor still is killed by Balrogs and the evils of Melkor’s host. His Fea still burns bright enough to catch fire and burn his hora to dust as his daughters weep beside him. Tatyamíriel is still crowned High Queen of the Noldor with the death of her father.

However, this time Ulmo delays Nolofinwe and his kin with bad winds, and they don’t reach the shores of Beleriand until after their new queen was taken during a skirmish with Melkor’s forces, for this time Tatyamíriel did not agree to meet with his emissaries until her half-uncle arrived, but was still stolen away with her guards slaughtered. Again, her Valiant young half-cousin steals away in the night on a mission to save her. This time it takes him longer, for there is no sun to protect him as he travels, and it is harder to see a path with only the light of the stars. Instead of a single year, it takes Findekano thirty to find a way to save his dearest cousin, and while he was often in low spirits he never lost hope. Still, the sun rose, and with its brilliance Findekano was allowed to travel faster and bolder. With the rising of the sun he was able to sing songs of his childhood until he found the sweetest echo. When he brought his dearest cousin and queen back to their people, frail, starved, naked, and missing her right hand, Nolofinwe thanked the Valar that Feanor couldn’t see Tatyamíriel like this. His eldest daughter, who was so much like Miriel, looked like she was one breath away from walking the same path of her grandmother during those long days of recovery.

But still, Tatyamíriel recovered. Still, she gave up her crown. Still she moved her host east and became the constant, steady pebble in Melkor’s sandals. Persistent, annoying, unmoveable, and painful. Tatyamíriel still became Maedhros, the Lady of the North, and was as deadly with her left-handed blade as she was with her mind.

Things would have been different with the Daughters of Feanor, but not by much.

However, it would have made all the difference.

#lotr

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